


Aftermath

by SugarsweetRomantic



Category: Hidden Agenda (Video Game 2017)
Genre: F/F, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-30 12:49:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14497353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SugarsweetRomantic/pseuds/SugarsweetRomantic
Summary: Felicity offers Becky a ride home after the Trapper is arrested, but they end up going somewhere else instead. Both women have been through hell, and they could both use a friend - or more.Please be aware: this work discloses the identity of the Trapper. Do not read if you have not completed the game.





	Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based on the following path: all evidence uncovered, Felicity asks Becky to meet her by the exit, the Trapper is arrested.

The hours after Simon’s - Adam’s, whatever - arrest had gone by in a blur. The last thing Becky could recall was looking at him over the barrel of her gun while trying to talk him into giving himself up, all whilst constantly aware of the unarmed prosecutor standing just feet behind her. Then, the searchlights had centred in on him, and SWAT had stormed in, securing the scene. Tom had been the one to pull her gun out of her shaking hands. Everything after that was a blur of sirens, journalists and paperwork, and now, at four in the morning, the world around her was finally quiet. She was standing in an empty office, trying to figure out where she had left her car. She had driven to the underpass, and then? She couldn’t remember for the life of her. Suddenly, she registered the door opening behind her. Instinctively, her hands shot to her hip, but her gun was in a safe somewhere after having been confiscated at the scene, along with Sergeant Riggs’ promise she’d get it back the following shift. Becky spun around to come face to face with an unexpected gentle smile.

“Felicity, hey,” she greeted the woman on an exhale.

“Hey yourself.” The raven-haired woman stepped into the small room, holding two styrofoam cups. Offering one to Becky, she explained: “Riggs mentioned you were still here, and I figured you could use a drink.” On closer inspection, the cups contained green tea. Smiling gratefully, the detective accepted the offering and took a small sip. She was more of a coffee person, but she wasn’t about to decline fresh tea when her alternative was instant coffee from the precinct’s decade-old machine, which tasted more like cardboard than coffee. 

“Thanks.” She awkwardly leant against the desk, shoving her free hand in her pocket. 

“Would you like a ride home?” Felicity asked. She seemed surprisingly relaxed, wearing dark jeans and a soft-looking boatneck sweater. 

“Sure, yeah, thanks. That’d be great.”  _ Smooth, Marney.  _ Especially since her hazy brain still hadn’t figured out where her car was.

 

“You’re so calm under all of this,” Felicity commented as they pulled out of the police parking lot. 

“Calm?” Becky inquired, still holding the tea close to her body. By now, it had become lukewarm, but she felt too queasy from the events of the past few days to drink it any faster than she was. “I’m still processing everything that’s happened,” she continued at a softer tone. Felicity nodded. As she turned onto the beltway, the prosecutor suddenly asked: “Would you like to come over?”

“W-what?” It was the only thing Becky could stammer in response. If anything, after all they’d been through, she had expected Felicity to want nothing to do with her, to never want to be remembered of it at all. The woman behind the steering wheel blushed and focused on the traffic, mumbling: “Never mind.”

“No, it’s…” the policewoman replied. “I’d like that.” She reached out and gently took hold of Felicity’s right hand, nervously watching the scenery go by.

 

The moment the front door of Felicity’s apartment closed behind them, both women let out deep sighs. The raven-haired woman giggled at their synchronised action, before asking: “What can I get you?”

“Whatever you’re having is fine.” Truthfully, Becky didn’t know what she felt like drinking. Just hours ago, she had thought she’d either end up in thousands of little pieces when the bomb wired to Judge Vanstone’s internal organs would go off, or would end up in police custody, most likely getting the death penalty for gruesome crimes she didn’t commit. Now, instead, the police force’s most trusted medical examiner was going to be prosecuted for multiple premeditated murders, and she was sitting on Felicity Graves’ sofa at a quarter to five in the morning. Blinking, she realised the prosecutor had been calling her name.

“Huh?” It wasn’t the most eloquent reply, but it got the point across. Felicity walked over to her, pausing when she was standing in front of the detective. 

“Are you okay?” The brunette wasn’t even sure whether she was.  _ Yes. No. Maybe?  _ She shrugged, dismissively humming: “Mhmm.” 

“I don’t believe you.” Becky fought the urge to roll her eyes. Of course, it was the woman’s daily job to see through defendant’s lies. Sighing, she admitted: “I’m...exhausted.”

“I’ve got a guest bedroom, if you want?” Felicity offered. “And I’m sure I have something for you to wear, too.”

“I don’t want to impose,” the policewoman protested. The thought of being able to lie down in a bed without having to take another drive sounded heavenly, but she didn’t want to make Felicity offer her to stay over if she didn’t want her there.

“Don’t be ridiculous; you’re more than welcome.” The response came with a reassuring smile, and Felicity walked off towards the hallway. “I’ll grab you something to sleep in.”

 

Now, Becky found herself standing in a peaceful bedroom, having changed into the tank top and sweatpants she had been given minutes before. The clothing was a little tight on her, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. She studied her surroundings in a similar way to when she was looking for evidence. The room was too neat to see many guests; some things looked like they hadn’t been moved in ages, possibly only to dust. The colour scheme was neutral, just like the rest of Felicity’s apartment. There was a vase of fresh flowers on the nightstand, and she had found a bible in the drawer. If she hadn’t known any better, she would have believed she was in a hotel room. A knock at the door brought her out of her musings, and she replied: “Come in.” Felicity entered, her face now free of makeup and her petite form dressed in a T-shirt and shorts. 

“Hey, I just wanted to ask whether you needed anything, and I brought you this.” She was holding a bottle of water and set it on the wooden desk. Becky smiled.

“Thanks.” She wrapped her arms around her own torso, and added: “I really appreciate it, Felicity.” Blushing, the prosecutor replied: “I have to admit I’m happy I’m not alone tonight, too.” 

“Will  _ you _ be okay?” Becky asked, taking a step closer to the other woman. “We’ve both been through hell and back today.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I don’t believe you.” This time it was the brunette’s turn to use Felicity’s own words against her. The raven-haired woman chuckled nervously. Becky could feel her protective instincts kick in - the reason she had joined the police academy in the first place. Emboldened by a sudden surge of confidence, she suggested: “Stay here, with me.” Felicity nodded wordlessly while she chewed on her bottom lip. Together, they crawled into the queen-sized bed. Becky could feel every muscle in her body. Everything ached, and she could only imagine how Felicity was feeling.

“We’re alive,” she whispered, turning to face Felicity. “We survived.” The brunette moved closer to the centre of the bed and pressed a soft kiss to Felicity’s lips.

 

They would find a way to process everything that had happened and move on, together.


End file.
